


Patroclus and Achilles

by schmulte



Series: Kissing in the Rain [5]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Actor AU!, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Actors Henry and Alex keep finding themselves kissing in the rain, despite not being particularly fond of each other.Song of Achilles spoilers
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Kissing in the Rain [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091210
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Patroclus and Achilles

He's in the rain again, on his knees. Henry looks like a god in his armor, hair kept immaculate somehow even with the water coming down on them. His eyes shine with something sincere, but they're crinkled up in anger, like they're supposed to be. 

"Patroclus," he says, and his words are sharp. His glare is icy. Alex doesn't ever want to be on the receiving end of that glare, not in real life, not ever again. "I will not do this. Do not ask again."

He tries to think like Patroclus would as he pauses. His men are dying, their boats are burning, he must be so upset. But he also loves Achilles, and knows that he needs to protect his legacy. He takes Henry's hands and presses them to his face and cries, because that's what he thinks Patroclus would do. "For me then," he says. "Save them for me. I know what I am asking of you. But I ask it. For me."

Henry swallows. He watches his Adam's apple bob up and down in his throat. "Anything else. Anything. But not this. I cannot."

"If you love me--"

"No!" Henry shouts, and Alex recoils on reflex. "I cannot! If I yield, Agamemnon will dishonor me whenever he wishes. The kings will not respect me, nor the men! Do you think I wish them all to die? But I cannot. I cannot! I will not let him take this from me!"

"Then do something else. Send the Myrmidons at least. Send me in your place. Put me in your armor, and I will lead the Myrmidons. They will think it is you." Alex stands and takes the hands on his face in his own. "Do you see? You will not have to break your Tarth, yet the greeks will be saved."

Henry's voice is almost a whisper. He looks at Alex with a kind of reverence that he's never seen before. "But you cannot fight."

"I will not have to! They are so frightened of you, if I show myself, they will run."

"No. It is too dangerous."

"Please," His hands slide over Henry's arms, up his shoulders, around his neck. Goosebumps rise on both their skin- he blames the cold. "It isn't. I will be all right. I won't go near them. Automedon will be with me, and the rest of the Myrmidons. If you cannot fight, you cannot. But save them this way. Let me do this. You said you would grant me anything else."

"But--"

"Think! Agamemnon will know you defy him still, but the men will love you. There is no fame greater than this- you will prove to them all that your phantom is more powerful than Agamemnon's whole army. It will be your mighty name that saves them, not your spear arm. They will laugh at Agamemnon's weakness, then. Do you see?"

The pads of Henry's thumbs brush at Alex's cheeks. "Swear to me. Swear to me that if you go, you will not fight them. You will stay with Automedon in the chariot and let the Myrmidons go in front of you."

"Yes," he kisses the inside of Henry's wrist. It's not scripted, but it feels right. "Of course. To frighten them, that is all. You will let me?"

Henry pauses a moment, searches Alex up and down. Then he nods, and Alex kisses him. It's different than all the other times, different from last time on the Ferris wheel. His stomach flips, and his hands slide naturally into Henry's hair, and it's so, so soft. They keep kissing for a while after the director yells cut, both lost in the moment. Henry's hands are strong and comforting against his skin, and he keeps him warm in the rain. 

When they pull away they're both flushed and breathing heavily. They don't acknowledge for how long they kissed, how natural it felt. They don't speak while they both wrap towels around themselves. Eventually Alex plucks up the courage and turns to face Henry, hoping his blush has faded.

"It was nice working with you this time," he tries. Henry's eyebrows raise, but he doesn't tease or make fun or some rude comment. He smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes, and Alex feels triumphant. 

"Thanks. You too."

"You know, I'm bummed we've never done an 80s movie together. Boom box, big romantic gesture."

Henry snorts. "John Hughes was a genius."

They're both smiling, wrapped in their towels, and it feels wonderful and natural and so, so _right_. Alex is beginning to think that maybe working with Henry isn't so bad after all.


End file.
